Your People Shall Be My People
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: A lot of things got left out of the Lay of Leithian, like Luthien meeting her new inlaws. Unfinished.
1. Beren Brings Home His Bride


    The Man in the hooded cloak stood quietly at the
    open Hall door, waiting. A woman came out to him,
    young and very beautiful with long dark hair tied back
    and a face flushed from kitchen heat.
    "I am Morwen daughter of Baragund," she said
    politely, "how may I serve you kinsman?"
    "Impossible!" the Man said solemnly. "Morwen
    daughter of Baragund is a skinny little girl with eyes
    too big for her face and freckles on her nose!"
    The Woman's eyes, which were indeed very large and
    beautiful, widened in shock. "Beren!"
    And the Man laughed and pushed back his hood. There
    were grey threads in the golden brown hair and beard,
    and lines that would have become the face of a much
    older Man but the smile, like the voice, belonged to
    the cousin she remembered. She put out her hands to
    feel if he was real. "Is it truly you?"
    "None other." he brushed away a tear with a gentle
    finger then tapped her nose playfully. "But what about
    those freckles? I'm sure I remember freckles."
    "Buttermilk does wonders for the complexion." she
    answered drily, then: "Oh, Beren, we feared you were
    dead!"
    He frowned in concern. "Didn't you get my letter?"
    "Yes indeed, two full years ago! And not a word
    since."
    "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but I had things to
    do." smiled. "Courting my wife for one."
    Following the direction of his nod Morwen saw a
    sleander cloaked figure by the opening in the stockade
    fence, a giant hound at her side. "And you leave her
    standing at the gate," she said scandalized, "what
    will she think of us?"
    "At the moment she's much more nervous about what
    you will think of her." Beren's mouth quirked in
    tender amusement. Dropping his voice he added
    confidentially. "She's terrified of meeting Mother"
    Morwen snorted gently. "I don't blame her,
    anybody'd be afraid of Aunt Emeldir."
    He nodded ruefully. "I shouldn't have told Luthien
    so much about her."
    Morwen disagreed. "She had to be warned. Well don't
    leave her standing out there, Beren, bring her in."
    "Forgive me, little Cousin, but I am impatient to
    see Mother and the rest of the family. Do they live
    close enough for us to make it there by nightfall?"
    Her face softened. "Of course I understand. The
    homestead is about five leagues from here, you should
    make it easily. Just follow the road, cross the bridge
    over the Nen Lalaith and a mile or so beyond that the
    path forks into four tracks, take the westernmost."
    "Thank you, Morwen." he kissed her.
    "I expect to see you both again very soon," she
    warned, "not tomorrow perhaps, but no longer than the
    second day after!"
    Beren smiled. "You have my word."
    ***
    "What if your mother doesn't like me?" Luthien
    jittered.
    Beren sighed. "She's going love you." he said
    patiently for the hundreth time.
    "I don't see why she should." added drily: "After
    all my father didn't like you."
    Beren grinned. Now there was an understatement if
    ever there was one. His Elven wife was developing an
    almost Mortal sense of humor. "You saved her son's
    life three times over, or is it four? she'll adore you
    for that alone."
    "Even when she learns it's my fault you were in
    danger in the first place?"
    Beren deliberately avoided reopening the old
    argument. "Mother's never minded danger, for herself
    or her children."
    Huan thrust his great head under Luthien's hand,
    she stroked it smiling wanly. "Yes, Huan, I
    understand. Worrying does no good but I can't seem to
    help myself."
    "Can this be the heroine who confronted Sauron and
    the Dark Lord himself?" Beren teased.
    "That was quite different," she said crisply. "I
    wasn't proposing to become their daughter and live in
    their house."
    "I should hope not!" her husband laughed, continued
    tenderly. "Dearling, I admit you're not exactly what
    my mother had in mind for a daughter-in-law, but I
    don't think she'll have any strong objection to the
    prospect."
    "I hope you're right." Luthien replied, but went on
    worrying silently.
    If only she didn't feel so hopelessly inadequate.
    She'd made Beren teach her the rudiments of the
    Beorian tongue on their journey to Dor-Lomin but she
    couldn't really claim to speak it. And her husband was
    the only Mortal Man she'd ever known. She knew nothing
    of their ways or customs, neither what a Mortal mother
    would expect of her son's wife nor how to live in a
    household of Men. But she was sure everything she did
    know; music and dance and the ways of power, would be
    useless to her now.
    She blinked back tears of frustration, grateful for
    the hood overshadowing her face. Beren on the other
    hand had known exactly how to conduct himself at the
    court of Menegroth. Dispite the Northern Sindarin her
    father so despised his manners had been perfect, equal
    to those of any Eldarin Lord, she'd been so proud of
    him. She could only pray she'd be able to make him as
    proud of her.
    But Beren had known many Elves. He'd been fostered
    as a boy by Angrod and Aegnor, and often visited
    Finrod at Nargothrond. He knew her people as well as
    he knew his own. She on the other hand had almost
    never set foot outside the bounds of Doriath, until
    two years ago, nor known any people but her father's
    Sindarin subjects save only for her part Noldo
    cousins.
    Bleakly she admitted she had only herself to blame.
    She'd been perfectly happy to dream away the long
    years of her life sheltered by the power of her mother
    and father. She could have taken more of an interest
    in the world beyond Doriath's borders but had chosen
    not to. Why she'd never even bothered to exchange a
    word with one the Naugrim craftsmen who came from time
    to time to make things for her father! What a
    self-centered little fool she'd been.
    She raised her head to look at Beren's back as he
    walked ahead of her, smiled ruefully. And then the Man
    had come and shattered her beautiful, safe, empty
    little world. Introducing her to love, anguish,
    terror, despair, and a piercing joy that made her
    previous happiness look like the pallid, sickly thing
    it was.
    She'd been dreaming all of her life but now she was
    awake, not only awake but vividly and vibrantly alive.
    These few years with Beren were worth more than all of
    the thousands she'd existed without him. She'd given
    up her rank, her parents, her home for him and never
    regretted it for a moment, nor would she - ever.
    Her chin lifted. Was she not her mother's daughter?
    had not Melian the Maia left her country and her
    people and subjected herself to the pangs and trials
    of living flesh all for the sake of Elu Thingol?
    Luthien Tinuviel would do no less. She belonged to the
    Folk of Beor now. She would learn how to live as a
    Mortal Woman, to be a good daughter to her new family
    and good wife to her husband.
    And they would be happy.
    ***
    They reached the homestead before dark, as the
    westering sun dyed the land gold and sent the long
    black shadows of trees and stockade fence streaming
    eastward. To Beren's eye the house, though built of
    timber rather than stone like the Lord's Hall at
    Ladros, looked pleasant and comfortable but what must
    Luthien, Princess of Doriath, think of it?
    "It is not the Halls of Menegroth." he said
    apologetically.
    "Nor a brushwood hut with a leaky roof." she
    answered with a dry, sidelong look.
    He grinned a little. She was right of course a
    proper house, however lacking royal splendor, was a
    great improvement over the way they had been living
    these past two years.
    A Man came out of the stables, saw them and crossed
    the yard towards them. Beren's breath caught and his
    heart skipped a beat. For a moment it seemed to him
    that Barahir had come back to life, not as the aging
    Man he had last seen but in the full glory of his
    young manhood, and was coming now to meet his new
    daughter. Then sanity returned and he realized who
    this must be.
    "Bregon."
    His younger brother came to a full stop, eyes
    widening, breathed: "Beren?"
    He put back his hood, smiled, and Bregon covered
    the remaining ground between them in a rush to enfold
    his elder brother in a fierce, bone crushing hug.
    Beren returned it on the verge of tears. The slight
    stripling of fifteen he remembered was gone forever.
    In the six years since he'd last seen him his brother
    had grown into a Man as tall as himself with the same
    powerful build, but dark haired like their father and
    with Barahir's face.
    "Two years!" Bregon was choking. "Two years without
    a word! What were you thinking, Brother?"
    "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was busy."
    "Busy!" Bregon pulled away to glare at him. "With
    what?"
    With winning myself a wife for one."
    Startled Bregon looked at Luthien. He couldn't see
    much of her, between the lenghtening shadows and
    enfolding cloak, but he smiled. "In that case all is
    forgiven. Welcome, Sister."
    ***********************************************
    NOTE: The chronology of the First Age is, to say the
    least, fluid the Professor never having made a final
    decision in the matter. I have chosen to blend the two
    chronologies using the earlier dates for Beren's
    meeting with Luthien and their quests together and the
    later for their return to Doriath and first deaths,
    thus making time for a long sojourn among the Beorings
    in Dor-Lomin.
    My chronology:
    460: Barahir and his companions slain, Beren avenges
    them by killing the Orc band responsible and carries
    on the fight single handed.
    462: Major offensive by Morgoth, barely checked by the
    Elves and Men of Hithlum and Dor-Lomin. Beren driven
    from Dorthonion.
    463: Meets Luthien and they fall in love. Their secret
    meetings are betrayed by Daeron and Thingol sets his
    bride-price.
    464: First attempt with Finrod Felagund and a company
    of twelve Elves of Nargothrond. Captured by Sauron and
    all the company slain except for Beren who is rescued
    by Luthien and Huan.
    465: Beren and Luthien together venture into Angband
    and suceed in cutting a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown
    but Beren loses the jewel and his hand to Carcaroth.
    Rescued by the Eagles Luthien nurses Beren back to
    health. Having fulfilled Thingol's condition, even if
    they've lost the Jewel, they consumate their marriage
    at last and decide to make their home among Beren's
    people.
    


	2. A Warm Welcome

 The hall smelled of new timber and fresh rushes. A
    fire burned cheerfully on the hearth in the center of
    the long room and torches filled it with ruddy golden
    light. Young Men were busy setting up the tables for
    the evening meal. Men who, like Bregon, had been boys
    when when the surviving Beorians fled Dorthonion six
    years ago. None of them seemed to recognize Beren
    though they eyed him and his hooded comapion curiously
    as they passed.
    A door behind the high table on the dais led to a
    lamplit withdrawing room that seemed at first glance
    to be full of chattering, giggling, young girls. But a
    second look revealed there were only four of them
    ranging from a blooming golden haired maiden of
    fifteen or so to a dark haired little thing with big
    eyes who reminded Beren of his cousin Morwen as a
    girl.
    They had been cutting out clothes on a wide trestle
    table and were now busily folding the brightly dyed
    woolens and linens away under the stern eye of a
    sleander young matron with a wealth of dark hair bound
    low on her graceful neck.
    Two small boys huddled under the table absorbed in
    a game of pebbles and nuts were pulled from their
    refuge by a tall, fair haired woman. "Out you two and
    go wash yourselves." she ordered.
    "Mother!" Bregon called.
    Emeldir straightened abruptly, blue eyes going
    questioningly to her younger son then flaring wide at
    the sight of the elder. The great elfstone brooch
    pinned to the breast of her gown flashed green fire as
    it rose as fell with her sharply intaken breath.
    Beren swallowed hard, blinking back tears.
    "Mother."
    "Well, my son, better late than never." she said
    coolly, and stepped forward to place a firm kiss on
    his cheek, only the fierce grip of her hands on his
    shoulders betraying the intensity of her emotion. His
    arms closed tightly around her.
    It was several minutes before Beren regained enough
    self command to let go. "I've brought my wife home,
    Mama." He managed huskily. Seized a cold little hand
    and drew her forward. "This is Luthien."
    Thingol's daughter saw an aging Mortal Woman, her
    golden hair tarnished by grey, with the fierce blue
    eyes of one of the Eagles of Manwe. A Woman who
    reminded her in an odd way she couldn't quite pin down
    of her own mother, Melian of Doriath.
    Emeldir stared in astonishment at the beautiful,
    unmistakably Elven face disclosed by Beren's wife's
    pushed back hood. And then she saw the apprehension in
    the deep grey eyes. Elf or no, beauty or no, she was
    still a new bride meeting her husband's family for the
    first time - and Emeldir remembered very well what
    that felt like.
    "Welcome, Daughter." she said and kissed the soft
    cheek. Emeldir saw the wonderful eyes fill with tears
    of gratitude and relief and smiled reassuringly before
    turning to beckon her other daughter forward. "This is
    your sister Adanel."
    This time Luthien remembered to return the kiss.
    Her new sister-by-marriage had the same dark hair and
    grey eyes as young Bregon but for all her height
    seemed slight, almost frail, next to the sturdier
    build of her brothers.
    "And these are Adanel's children." Emeldir
    continued assembling the two boys and two of the four
    girls before her. "Idhril and Melethril will remember
    their Uncle Beren, but I doubt Egnor will. And Beren
    won't remember Amdir."
    "No, but Aunt Bregil (1) told me about him," Beren
    answered. "when we went to Brethil in search of news
    of you." turned to his niece, the image of her mother
    Adanel at fourteen. "Do you remember me, Idhril?"
    "Of course I do!" the girl answered firmly, and
    came forward to give him the kiss. "I remember Papa
    and Granda Barahir and Uncle Bregolas and Aunt Amoreth
    too."
    "And so do I," said eleven year old Melethril.
    "Well maybe not Uncle Bregolas, but I do remember you
    Uncle Beren." (2)
    "I do too." Egnor, the elder of the two boys,
    instantly claimed.
    "You can't," his big sister told him scornfully,
    "you were just a baby."
    "I was not! I was nearly four." looked up at his
    uncle. "I remember you gave me a little bow and some
    arrows when we left."
    "That's right I did." Beren agreed. "You remember
    right, nephew." and the boy shot his sister a
    triumphant look.
    "What happened to your hand?" six year old Amdir
    wanted to know.
    Luthien flinched. Beren had made no effort to hide
    his stump, she knew his mother and brother and sister
    had to have noticed it but they had said nothing.
    "A wolf bit it off." Beren answered his younger
    nephew.
    The boy's blue-grey eyes went round. "Did it hurt?"
    he asked, awed.
    "Very much." Beren said matter-of-factly, smiled
    warmly at his wife. "But your Aunt Luthien healed it
    for me."
    Amdir turned his attention to her. "You're very
    beautiful." he said seriously.
    "Thank you." she said, then: "I am very glad to
    meet you Amdir, and all of you, I have never had
    nieces or nephews before."
    "Aunt Emeldir," the elder of the two blond girls
    broke in, "don't forget us!"
    "*I* haven't forgotten you, litte cousin." Beren
    laughed, continued to Luthien: "This is Rian and her
    sister Rielle, my cousin Belegund's daughters." he
    looked around. "I have seen Morwen, but where are
    Lorwendel, Gilmith and Feiniel and Belanor and
    Emelloth?" (3) Luthien heard a trace of anxiety,
    almost fear, in his voice.
    Emeldir heard it too. "Lorwendel, understandably,
    chose to return to her father's house and took her
    daughters with her. As for your sisters, they are
    married and seeing to their own homes and families. We
    will send word to them in the morning."
    Beren smiled in relief.
    ***
    Emeldir led Beren into the hall by the hand and
    announced: "My elder son has come home. Here is Beren
    son of Barahir returned to us!" The Men and Women
    assembled at the tables below the dais stared for a
    moment in astonishment then burst into cheers. As the
    noise began to die down she drew Luthien forward. "And
    here is his wife, Luthien Tinuviel of the Sindar!"
    adding privately under cover of the renewed cheering.
    "Don't be frightened, it's just Men's noisy way of
    showing their happiness."
    Luthien nodded. It was very un-Elvish but the joy
    and the welcome she felt in the cheers made her feel
    warm clear through. Maybe winning a place among her
    husband's people wouldn't be as hard as she'd feared.
    ***********************************************
    1. Eldest sister of Barahir. She and her daughter
    Beldis decided to remain in Brethil rather than go on
    to Dor-Lomin. Beldis eventually married Handir Chief
    of the Haladin and was the mother of Brandir.
    2. Bregolas was of course killed in the Dagor
    Bragollach in 455 FA when Melethril, his great niece,
    was not yet a year old. But Idhril, her sister, was
    four and may well retain some memory of him.
    3. Gilmith and Feiniel are the younger daughters of
    Baragund and his Hadorian wife Lorwendel. Belanor and
    Emelloth are Beren's sisters, between himself and
    Bregon in age. Adanel is three years his senior. Given
    the recent history of the house of Beor Beren had
    every reason to fear the worst when he failed to find
    his sisters and cousins with the rest of the family.
    


	3. Tales are Told


    "You didn't say in your letter that you had been
    betrayed." Emeldir frowned.
    "No." Beren agreed unhappily. "I didn't want to
    confide such words to paper. My only evidence is a
    dream, but I am sure it was a True Dream. Poor Gorlim
    did fail us for Eilinel's sake."
    His mother shook her head. "He knew she was dead."
    "No he did not." Adanel corrected. "A handful of
    burnt bones that could have belonged to anyone. He
    couldn't be *sure*."
    "And that uncertainty was the weakness that broke
    him." Beren shivered. "How could he abandon her to
    torment and death? I don't know what I would have done
    in his place."
    Luthien placed a gentle hand on her husband's head,
    as it leant against her knee. "You would do what was
    right."
    "I hope so, but I know now how hard the choice
    would be." he looked up at Emeldir, pleaded. "Mother,
    must I tell this to Baranor and Aelind?"
    "Baranor already knows." Emeldir said quietly.(1)
    "But I see no reason to distress Aelind. Few Men could
    have withstood such a trial - and he died repentent.
    It would be an evil thing to poison a sister's memory
    of her only brother."
    Beren let out a sigh of relief. "That's how I feel.
    He was a brave Man and a good companion, I would not
    have that forgotten because of one moment of weakness,
    however terrible the consequences." his brother and
    sister nodded their agreement.
    They sat in Emeldir's chamber talking as the rest
    of the household slept. The Men in the hall, the Women
    in the withdrawing room and the children of the house
    in the smaller chambers that flanked it.
    Emeldir had one of two large solars above the
    withdrawing room. Her windows looked west and south
    and were open to the night air. Two lamps gave light
    to the room, one silvered and the other gilded, both
    wrought in the shape of trees with intricately
    interlacing branches enclosing globes of crystal.
    Their workmanship was easily the equal of anything
    in Menegroth and yet there was something very
    un-Elvish about them, a deliberate roughness of finish
    and angularity that was alien to Luthien's people.
    They were the work of Men's hands, as was the
    brilliantly colored tapestry upon the wall. Elaborate
    knotwork bordures enclosed stylized images of dark
    haired Men and Women rousing from sleep to gaze in
    wonder at a golden haired Elf playing a harp.
    A sword hung in a well worn scabbard above the wide
    bed, and a table stood in a corner beyond it between
    two windows. Three shelves lined with books hung above
    it, their spines lettered in both Tengwar and a form
    of Cirth Luthien didn't recognize.
    Emeldir had one of the chamber's two chairs, and
    Luthien had been given the other. Beren had chosen to
    sit on rug at her feet but his brother and sister
    shared a bench under the nearest window.
    "You are sure all were killed?" Adanel asked of
    Beren.
    He nodded. "Very sure, sister, I buried their
    bodies."
    Luthien, who had seen the remains of too many
    Orcish victims, shuddered at the thought.
    "There was enough left for you to identify them
    all?" Adanel asked with a calm that sent chills down
    her new sister's spine.
    "Yes, Dani, there can be no doubt Dagnir is dead. I
    am sorry." reaching behind his neck he untied a thong
    and pulled a small pouch from beneath his shirt.
    Opened it and extracted a ring, offering it to his
    sister. "I kept this, I knew he'd want you to have it
    back."
    Luthien saw a matching band, silver overlaid with a
    pattern in delicate gold wire, on the hand Adanel
    extended to take the ring and realized it must have
    been her husband's plight troth. Tears glittered the
    pale grey eyes, so like Beren's, and beaded the long
    dark lashes. "I am more fortunate than Gorlim. I
    *know* my beloved is free."
    The word struck Luthien oddly. The slain were not
    'free' but doomed to weary years of imprisonment in
    Mandos' dark halls, or worse to wander bodiless unable
    to see or touch or speak, beneath the Shadow. Yet
    clearly neither Beren nor the rest of his family found
    anything strange in the remark.
    "After that I carried on as best I could alone."
    her husband was saying.
    Emeldir smiled faintly. "Your best was very good
    indeed, if the songs are to be believed."
    Beren sighed. "I still don't understand about those
    songs, *I* didn't make them and I'm quite sure the
    Orcs didn't!"
    "But are they true?" Bregon wanted to know.
    Beren smiled wryly. "Well, there were never *quite*
    that many Orcs or Wargs or Trolls - at least not all
    at the same time - and I certainly never walked into
    any Orcish stronghold to issue a challenge to it's
    commander! But otherwise, yes, they're true."
    Bregon's eyes shone. Luthien smiled at him. "It was
    the Lindar who made the songs, and they heard of your
    brother's deeds from the birds and the beasts." looked
    down at her husband. "I don't know why you find that
    so hard to believe. Weren't they your spies and
    allies?"
    "What I find hard to believe is that they'd bother
    to pass tales of a Man, even one they'd befriended, to
    their distant kin." Beren explained.
    Luthien shrugged. "You impressed them."
    ***********************************************
    1. Emeldir means that Baranor, Gorlim's mother, is
    dead herself and doubtless has already met with her
    son in the Halls or beyond the Circles of the World.
    Of course the story does eventually become known,
    but not until after Gorlim's sister and her children
    have also passed to the Halls. And the songs are not
    unkind to Gorlim, pitying rather than condemning.
    


	4. Meeting Tinuviel


    "I never could believe you'd challenge an Orc
    Chieftain to a duel before all his garrison." Emeldir
    assured her elder son. "I didn't raise my children to
    be reckless fools."
    "You didn't?" Beren, Adanel and Bregon chorused in
    ragged unison, three left eyebrows lifting in an
    expression very familiar to Luthien.
    Their mother gave them the same look right back.
    "Well, not fools anyway." she amended.
    Beren grinned, resumed his story. "Without the help
    of the birds and beasts and the land itself I'd never
    have lasted as long as I did." shook his head. "But by
    my second winter alone it was clear my choices were
    certain death or maybe death trying to escape. I
    decided to try to escape." his eyes darkened. "The
    pass of Anach was too far, and to well guarded. My
    only possible route was over the Ered Gorgoroth - and
    through Nan Dungortheb."
    There was dead silence as he took a ragged breath,
    Luthien's hand tightening reassuringly on his
    shoulder. "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't
    mind."
    "It's a tale I'd rather not hear." his mother said
    as quietly. "The edges of the vale were dreadful
    enough."
    His eyes flashed up in horror. "Mother!"
    "We had no choice." Emeldir answered defensively.
    "Dimbar was full of Warg riders. We used the Mindeb as
    a shield and followed the east bank down to where it
    ran into the Sirion, then crossed by raft into
    Brethil."
    "Those of us who lived through it will have
    nightmares about that journey for the rest of our
    lives." Bregon said, looking far older than his years.
    "I don't want to hear or even imagine what you went
    through, Brother, all alone."
    "Not alone." Beren said softly. And his wife looked
    at him puzzled. But his kin seemed to understand.
    Then Emeldir's words registered. "You took
    *children* into the Dungortheb?!" she gasped appalled.
    "Barely within its borders." Adanel half
    contradicted. But Luthien knew what the river valley
    of the Mindeb was like, had nursed March Wardens who'd
    been forced into it and shared their nightmares. (1)
    "They're alive." Emeldir said flatly. "As they
    would not be had we taken any other road."
    "I will never know how long that journey took."
    Beren resumed. "but it must have been measured in
    weeks not months or I would not be here now." grimly.
    "It seemed like forever. But finally I stumbled into
    the Forest of Neldorath," smiled up at his wife. "And
    met my Tinuviel."
    ***
    The Forest of Neldoreth was the demesne of the
    Princess Luthien, none dwelt there or entered it save
    by her leave or in her company. In truth this was no
    hardship to the people of Doriath. Though they knew
    the Girdle defended the northern wood, as it did all
    the Hidden Kingdom, they still preferred the
    protection of running water between their dwellings
    and the Dark Realm and were more than willing to leave
    the beechwood empty, a park and pleasance for their
    beloved Princess.
    It was in the summer of the four hundreth and sixty
    third Year of the Sun that Luthien first became aware
    of a strange presence lurking in her woodlands. Of
    eyes watching her as she danced and sang and played
    with her maidens in the beech and hemlock groves or
    niphredil starred meads.
    Yet her companions sensed nothing, not even her
    minstrel Daeron the Wise. Her mother, Queen Melian,
    assured her nothing could pass through the walls of
    power and illusion that fenced the woodland realm. And
    her father the King sent his best trackers and
    huntsmen to comb the beechwood and they came back
    empty handed, having seen and heard and felt nothing
    amiss.
    Luthien pretended to accept their assurances but
    she knew better. There was something, nay *somebody*
    haunting her woods. As summer turned to fall, and then
    to winter she went often to Neldoreth alone, and sang
    and danced hoping to draw the lurker to her. Sometimes
    she felt eyes upon her that did not belong to bird or
    beast but never could she catch so much as a glimpse
    of his shadow.
    She was not afraid, Luthien had never been afraid
    for never in all her long years had anything been
    allowed to threaten her. But she was fairly consumed
    with curiousity and brimming with frustration at her
    failure to solve the mystery.
    Then one drear night at winter's end as the stars
    began to fade Luthien, chilled by her long cold watch,
    lifted her voice in song invoking Vana the Spring
    Maiden and danced to warm herself upon the brown
    winter grass. And turning in the dance she saw him,
    standing just within the glade.
    Her first reaction was delight and some confusion.
    He was tall as an elf but bearded like one of the
    naugrim, what manner of creature was this? Then she
    looked into his eyes, pale grey like the dawn sky as
    the stars faded, and a panic fell upon her. Blindly
    she turned to flee - then a voice cried a name that
    halted her in her tracks.
    "Tinuviel!"
    Tinuviel, daughter of the twilight, a name for the
    sweet singers who served her mother. The fear left her
    as suddenly as it had come and she stood still,
    waiting for him.
    A hand reached out to stroke her hair, then the
    other joined it cupping her face between them. "You're
    real." he breathed.
    "So are you." was all she could find to say. And
    her own hands reached up to explore. Trace the brows
    above the clear eyes, then down over finely modelled
    cheekbones to a beard almost as long and much shaggier
    than a Naugrim's. "What are you?"
    "A Man." he said on a note of surprise. Then: "Have
    you never seen one of the Edain before my Tinuviel?"
    "Never!" wonderingly. "Are they all as beautiful as
    you?"
    "Beautiful!" he laughed out loud. "You are the
    first to ever call me that, sweetheart."
    "Are all your people blind then?" she asked
    disbelievingly. His hands slid down to rest on her
    shoulders. Her heart was beating wildly and her breath
    came quick, as if she'd been running.
    "No, just somewhat more particular." the amusement
    left his face. "You are beautiful, the most beautiful
    thing I have ever seen. And fearless and free and wild
    to hold."
    Luthien was accustomed to praises of her beauty,
    even bored by them. Her wisdom, her singing, her grace
    had all been praised to surfeit by singers beyond
    counting. But nobody had ever spoken of her courage or
    her spirit before. Looking deep into the silvery
    mirrors of his eyes she saw not Luthien, pampered and
    cossetted darling of Doriath, but a winged, elusive
    thing, sweet voiced and bright eyed - Tinuviel!
    Then the eyes came closer until she was drowing in
    them and his lips touched hers gently, then with more
    force, arms tightening around her. And she felt
    herself melting like wax left in the sun - until he
    suddenly pulled away.
    "I'm sorry," he said breathing hard, yet abashed,
    "I shouldn't have done that -"
    And Tinuviel put her hands behind his head and
    pulled him in for another, longer kiss.
    *********************************************
    1. Think Withywindle valley multiplied by something
    like two hundred percent.
    


	5. Discovered!

 "Beren beautiful!" Bregon hooted.
    "*Very* beautiful." Luthien corrected, smiled
    kindly at her brother by marriage. "You are beautiful
    too, but not *quite* as beautiful as Beren."
    Bregon blushed.
    "Their mother is not likely to disagree with you."
    Emeldir said tranquilly.
    "Though I may." put in Adanel, laughing. "But
    sisters never can see such things, or so they say."
    "Nor brothers either." Luthien agreed. "It's quite
    true. Celeborn never could see this superlative beauty
    of mine - or so he claimed."
    "Celeborn is your brother?" Emeldir asked.
    "Not exactly," Luthien explained. "A foster brother
    but a cousin by blood. We were children together." A
    thought struck. "Everybody was against his marriage
    too."
    Beren looked up at her in surprise. "I thought you
    said he'd married Lord Finrod's sister Lady Nerwen?"
    "Exactly, a Noldo and an Exile. Even if she is our
    kin on her mother's side. They called her Kinslayer
    and accursed and were almost as unreasonable and
    unpleasant to them as they were to us."
    ***
    The Court of Menegroth had long since become
    accustomed to their Princess' new habit of going alone
    to Neldoreth, and if she went more often and stayed
    longer well it was spring after all.
    Luthien was not a fool, she knew perfectly well her
    parents would not approve of her befriending a Man and
    harboring him in her wood. She knew she had to keep
    him a secret - but at the same time she felt a
    desperate need to talk about him to *somebody*!
    "I call him Anorion, Child of the Sun, as I am
    Daughter of Twilight. His hair is a wonderful dark
    gold color, like bronze, and so is his beard - did I
    mention he's bearded like a Dwarf? And he has the most
    beautiful *eyes* -"
    "Yes, but how did a Man get past the Girdle?"
    Runen, the most senior of her handmaidens, demanded.
    Luthien's perfect brow creased in a slight frown.
    "I wondered about that too. When I asked Anorion he
    just said it had been a hard journey and one he wanted
    to forget."
    "I can imagine." Runen said grimly. For she, with
    Luthien, had watched the Queen weave the mazes of
    shadow and bewilderment that formed the Girdle of
    Melian.
    "I think the animals must have guided him through."
    Luthien continued meditatively. "He has the most
    amazing bond with them and understands their language
    like a Lindar."
    "I didn't know Men could do that." Duveleth, the
    most junior of Luthien's handmaidens, said doubtfully.
    "I thought they were supposed to be clumsy and rather
    stupid, though very brave fighters."
    "Oh no!" the Princess shook her head emphatically.
    "I used to think that too but now, knowing Anorion, I
    see they are really very little different from Elves,
    just as my cousin Finrod always claimed."
    "My sisters and I used to go to watch the Men on
    the other side of the Teiglin when they came down for
    water or to fish." Duveleth offered propitiatingly.
    "They did look like us, only not so tall and a little
    thicker in the body."
    "Anorion is as tall as I am but very broad in the
    shoulders, though his waist is nice and slim." Luthien
    said dreamily.
    The two handmaidens exchanged looks. "But what are
    you going to do with him, Luthien?" Runen wanted to
    know.
    "Do with him?" their mistress echoed blankly.
    "You know we're supposed to bring any outsiders we
    find wandering on the borders to the King." Duveleth
    reminded her patiently. "And how his Grace has always
    been firm set against having Men here."
    Runen nodded. "Why he won't even let Lord Finrod
    bring his Edain retainers with him when he visits."
    Luthien bit her lip, then lifted her chin
    defiantly. "Neldoreth is *my* demesne. If I want to
    give Anorion refuge there it's my business and nobody
    elses, not even Father's." her face softened. "I think
    he's had a very terrible time Outside. He's safe and
    happy in Neldoreth and I won't have him cast out
    because Father's taken against Men without ever even
    meeting one!"
    ***
    Luthien was still feeling righteously defiant as
    she walked through the beechwood to meet Anorion, but
    also more than a little guilty. For she knew perfectly
    well she was bending, if not breaking, the Law of her
    People and indirectly defying her father and king. But
    she didn't want to share Anorion with the rest of the
    world, at least not yet. Surely it would do no harm to
    keep him to herself for just a little longer? She knew
    her father would never grudge her something that made
    her so happy.
    But what of Anorion himself? What if *he* wanted to
    leave? What if he didn't like living alone in the
    woods and wanted to go back to his own people. How
    could she bear it if he left her?
    "Why the frown, sweetheart?"
    Luthien whipped around. "How do you *do* that?"
    His left eyebrow lifted a trifle. "Do what?" he
    asked innocently - as if he didn't know!"
    "Sneak up on me. I am Eldar and this is *my* wood.
    Nothing and nobody should be able to conceal
    themselves from me here. How can you?"
    "Practice," he said wryly, "years and years of it.
    But you didn't answer my question, Tinuviel."
    She lowered her eyes, peeked nervously at him
    through her lashes. "I was wondering if - if you might
    want to leave the Beechwood. Someday that is."
    His hand turned her face to his. "Never." he said
    softly, those pale dawn sky eyes boring into hers,
    flooding her body with warmth. "I will never want to
    leave you, my Tinuviel."
    "That's good." she managed, "I think I would fade
    away if you did."
    "It won't happen." he promised huskily just before
    their lips met.
    That settles it then, she thought blissfully.
    Anorion *was* happy in Neldoreth with her, and she
    would see to it he was left in peace.
    ***
    But in the end it was Luthien herself who gave her
    secret away. Her fits of abstraction and sudden
    disinterest in her usual pleasures and pastimes did
    not go unnoticed by her parents or others in
    Menegroth. It was just a matter of time until somebody
    set himself to find out the reason why. It was Daeron,
    master singer of Doriath, whose stretched ear
    overheard unguarded whispers between Luthien and her
    favored handmaidens and immediately took his knowledge
    to the King.(1)
    Thingol sent at once for his daughter. She came to
    the small audience room he had chosen for the
    confrontation, attended by Runen and Duveleth as
    requested, and blinked in surprise at the sight of her
    parents seated upon their thrones with Councillor
    Oropher and Captain Mablung beside Thingol, and Daeron
    lurking rather shamefacedly behind Melian's chair.
    "Daughter," the King began heavily, "a serious
    accusation has been brought against you. It is said
    you have brought a fugitive Man into the realm in
    defiance of my laws."
    Duveleth blushed bright red and Runen turned a
    trifle pale but Luthien frowned darkly. "Who told
    you!"
    Thingol blinked at the unexpected assault,
    recovered himself. "That is immaterial. Is the charge
    true?"
    "It is not!" she said heatedly, then amended. "Or
    rather not exactly. I did find a Man in Neldoreth but
    he got in all by himself, I had nothing to do with
    it."
    Thingol heard the truth ringing in his daughter's
    voice, turned to his wife. "How is that possible? What
    Mortal could pass through your defenses?"
    "One with a greater hand than mine guiding him."
    Melian replied, and her eyes were troubled.
    "You mean the Dark One -" Oropher began horrified,
    only to be instantly interupted by a furious Luthien.
    "There is no taint of the Shadow on my Anorion!
    "I spoke not of the Dark Lord." Melian said flatly.
    "My Girdle is proof against *his* servants."
    Thingol barely heard her. The words 'My Anorion'
    rang too loudly in his ears. What kind of spell had
    this Mortal put upon his Luthien? "Mablung." he said,
    furious and afraid, "go to Neldoreth and bring this
    Man to me!"
    But his daughter only smiled smugly. "Look all you
    like, you won't find him - I know."
    ***
    "And they didn't." Luthien told her new family just
    as smugly. "Mablung and Beleg and all the Wardens they
    could pull in from the marches combed Neldoreth from
    the Esgalduin to the borders of the Dungortheb but not
    a hair or trace of my Anorion did they find."
    "If I'd know who they were and why they sought me
    I'd have surrendered at once." Beren put in. "But I
    didn't even know I was in Doriath, much less that I'd
    been keeping company with the King's daughter!"
    "You didn't tell me who you were either." Luthien
    pointed out.
    "I didn't think my name would mean anything to
    you." he protested. "As far as I knew then nobody'd
    ever even heard of me! How was I to know beasts and
    birds escaping from Dorthonion had passed my story on
    to the Lindar and they'd made songs of it?"
    *********************************************
    1. I know this isn't the way it's told in the songs
    but think about it, is it really likely that Beren
    even distracted by Luthien would fail to detect a spy
    watching them? Given his background as a guerilla
    fighter and a kind of proto-Ranger I mean. I didn't
    think so either.
    


	6. Beren Barahirion


    "If you didn't tell each other who you were what
    did you talk about?" Bregon wondered.
    "We didn't do a great deal of talking in those
    days, Little Brother." Beren answered with a
    reminiscent smile.
    "We sang and laughed more, or held hands in silence
    gazing deeply into each other's eyes." added his wife
    with a dreamy smile of her own.
    Bregon's left eyebrow rose slightly in the
    quizzical _expression seemingly common to the entire
    House of Beor. "Forgive me, but didn't that get a
    trifle monotonous?
    "No." said Beren and Luthien in unison. Echoed by
    Adanel and Emeldir, eyes bright with memories of their
    own courting days.
    Beren smiled a little condescendingly at the
    younger Man. "You'll find out for yourself someday,
    Little Brother."
    "I certainly hope so." he answered.
    ***
    "My Lord I would take oath there is naught in that
    wood save the beasts and birds who dwell there." a
    decidedly harried Captain Mablung told his King.
    "Oh he's there." Luthien said confidently, turned
    to her father. "Your Men will never find him, but I
    can." paused to make sure she had his full attention.
    "And I will, providing you promise me you will do him
    no harm. Anorion never meant to break our law, it was
    my fault not his."
    Thingol struggled with himself a moment, then
    nodded stiffly. "Very well, Daughter, I accept your
    Man meant no harm. His life is safe."
    "And his freedom." Luthien prompted.
    Another stiff nod. "And his freedom. Now bring him
    to me!" in a near roar.
    "As you wish, Sire." she said lightly, dropped a
    courtsey and then a kiss upon her father's purpling
    cheek and danced out of the room.
    Thingol's glittering eye fixed on the shrinking
    handmaidens. "As for you two -"
    "My dear," Melian laid a gentle hand on his arm,
    "bethink yourself. Their service and first loyalty is
    to Luthien, of course they kept her secret." smiled
    coaxingly. "Surely you don't expect girls to tell
    tales on one another?"
    Was there nobody in all of Menegroth he could take
    his temper out on? Thingol wondered. "Very well, we
    will say no more about it. Have either of you seen
    this Man?"
    Both handmaidens shook their heads. "No, my Lord,"
    said Runen. "Even when we accompanied Luthien across
    the Esgalduin he never showed himself until we had
    left her."
    "I did wonder, my Lord, my Lady," Duveleth said in
    a rush, "if perhaps this Anorion might not be some
    kind of phantom or delusion." flushed even redder. "I
    mean *nobody* but Luthien has seen or even sensed him.
    Is that possible?"
    "No phantom or sending could pass the Girdle." said
    the Queen. "If this is a delusion it is one formed out
    of my daughter's own mind."
    "You mean Luthien is mad?" Duveleth asked round
    eyed.
    "Melian -" the King began, equally appalled.
    But the Queen shook her head. "I do not. I believe
    this Man exists, shielded by some great doom or power
    beyond mine."
    "I do not find that reassuring." Thingol said
    drily.
    ***
    Luthien was still in the forest of Region, hadn't
    even reached the bridge she usually used to cross the
    river into Neldoreth, when with a rustle of leaves
    Anorion dropped onto the path in front of her and
    clasped her gratefully in his arms.
    "Tinuviel! Thank Our Father and Our Lady you're
    safe.(1) The Beechwood is crawling with Elven warriors
    of some kind -"
    "I know. They're my father's men looking for you."
    He pushed her back to armslength, stared and asked
    blankly "Your father?"
    "Thingol King of Doriath. The Beechwood is part of
    Doriath." she explained.
    "Doriath." he repeated even more blankly. "You're
    Luthien Thingolien? But - but the Hidden Kingdom is
    supposed to be defended from intrusion by the power of
    the Maia Queen."
    "So we thought." Luthien agreed. "My mother says a
    greater power than hers must have guided you through
    the mazes of the Girdle."
    "Your mother." he echoed. "Of course if you're
    Thingol's daughter then Melian the Maia is your
    mother." he sat down abruptly on a convenient knarled
    root and put his head in his hands. "Your father is
    going to kill me."
    "*He will not!*" Luthien cried, horrified. "Truly,
    Anorion, I have his word - he knows it was all my
    fault - I explained everything -"
    "Gently, Sweetheart, gently." he interupted,
    reaching up to take her hands. "I only meant that King
    Thingol was like to be very angry with me. And justly
    too."
    "Not *justly*" she said, heart still thumping. "You
    haven't done anything wrong."
    "Not on purpose." he agreed ruefully. Got to his
    feet. "You'd better present me to your father."
    They'd only gone a little ways up the path back to
    Menegroth when they came face to face with Captain
    Mablung, a half dozen of his men at his back.
    "This is Anorion." Luthien introduced, enjoying the
    astonished expressions on their faces.
    "Beren." the Man beside her corrected, and as she
    looked at him. "My name is Beren son of Barahir."
    misinterpreting her stunned gaze he went on. "I am
    grandson of that Bregor who was Lord of Ladros in the
    North. We held our land from King Finrod Felagund -"
    "Yes." Mablung broke in. Swallowed. "Your name and
    lineage are not unknown in Doriath, my Lord Beren."
    "They aren't." the Man looked puzzled a moment,
    then shrugged. "Well that'll save some explaining
    anyway."
    ***
    He accepted gratefully Captain Mablung's offer of a
    bath and change of clothes before his audience with
    King Thingol. It would definitely help his case if he
    looked a little more the lord and less the vagabond.
    Captain Mablung clearly agreed. Beren arched an
    appreciative eyebrow at the splendor of the garments
    the Elf offered him. "Contrary to appearances,
    Captain, I do know the customs and usages of civilized
    Men and Elves." he pulled the tunic over his head then
    glanced sidelong at his companion. "Unlike your
    Princess, I realize all to well just how outrageous my
    behavior has been." smiled wryly. "I have three sister
    and I hate to think what my father would have done had
    he discovered one of them was meeting some nameless
    wanderer in the woods!"
    "You are far from nameless, my Lord." Mablung
    reminded him.
    "No, but I gather your King is not much impressed
    by my kind. I know Men are forbidden entry here."
    sighed as he fastened a golden belt around his waist.
    "I did not knowingly break your law - indeed I don't
    understand how I came to do so, knowing or unknowing."
    "That puzzles us as well." the Captain admitted.
    "Where did you think you were, my Lord?"
    Beren shrugged. "Some woodland in Himlad," smiled
    wryly, "I took your Princess for another holdout like
    myself. The rest of her folk either fled or dead."
    "And she didn't tell you otherwise."
    "She did not."
    ***
    Luthien waited in the outer chamber of the
    aparments assigned to Anorion - Beren - together with
    Runen and Duveleth.
    "Beren son of Barahir! no wonder he had no
    difficulty concealing himself from our men after all
    those years spent hiding from Orcs and Wargs and
    Werewolves!" Duveleth murmured awed.
    "I should have known he was somebody, that no
    common Man could have such skills." Luthien brooded.
    "You were right about him having a terrible time
    Outside." Runen reminded her, shuddered. "his father
    and companions dead, his whole *country* destroyed."
    Duveleth shivered too. "No wonder he was so glad to
    find peace and safety in Neldoreth."
    The inner door opened. Luthien looked up and her
    jaw dropped. Beren's hair and beard had been washed
    and trimmed and shone like polished bronze in the
    lamplight. He was attired in shades of blue; tunic,
    robe and mantle. With a golden belt clasping his slim
    waist, a golden collar round his neck and a thin
    circlet holding back his hair with a sunburst upon his
    brow.
    "You're right, he *is* beautiful!" Runen murmured
    appreciatively into her ear. Duveleth seemed beyond
    speech.
    Luthien was wordless too. Beren Barahirion, Lord of
    Ladros in Dorthonion, seemed a very different Man from
    her Anorion - until he smiled at her and asked. "Well,
    Sweetheart, do I clean up well?"
    She stood up holding out her hand to him and as he
    took it answered: "If I had realized how much more
    beautiful you are clean and properly dressed I'd have
    brought you home long ago."
    ***********************************************
    1. I will explain this later, but Beren is *not*
    refering to the Virgin Mary.
    


	7. Beren Meets The Folks


    Tinuviel kept a firm hold of Beren's hand as they
    walked through the halls and passages of Menegroth,
    Elves turning their heads to stare as they passed. The
    Man was reminded a little of Nargothrond but here was
    less use of metal and gem and a more naturalistic
    style of art. Pillars were realistically carved and
    painted as trees, with the bright eyes of birds and
    beasts peeking from their foliage, and the walls
    covered with woven hangings depicting Elves hunting,
    feasting and singing in a fair wood. Fountains played
    in the halls and clear water flowed in channels
    through the passages.
    An Elf intercepted them. "The King will recieve the
    Man in the Great Hall, my Lady."
    Tinuviel frowned at the messenger, who wilted
    visibly under her displeasure, then abruptly changed
    direction. She flounced, towing Beren by the hand in
    her wake, through a long hall with pillars carved like
    mighty oak trees, a wide hall with many sleander
    columns shaped like birches, a third like a beech
    grove, and finally a fourth pillared with great holly
    trees bright with berries. Black and silver doors,
    signed with the moon and stars, were thrown open
    before them and they swept through into a vast domed
    chamber crowded with Elves.
    Beren pulled Tinuviel to a halt to gaze wonderingly
    at the hemlock trees carved upon the walls, and the
    great pillars of the same upholding a ceiling jeweled
    like the night sky with the thousand stars of Varda.
    Fountains played in a clear pool in the center of the
    great chamber, and on its other side, enthroned
    beneath the interlaced branches of a silver tree and a
    golden, sat Thingol Greycloak with Melian his queen at
    his side.
    Tinuviel tugged urgently at his hand and Beren let
    her lead him around the fountains to the foot of the
    royal dais. The King, his grey cloak glistening with
    stars, pale hair gleaming like moonlight beneath a
    circlet of silver and emerald, frowned darkly upon
    them and thundered: "Who are you that come hither as a
    thief and unbidden dare to approach my throne."
    Beren winced. Thingol was angry all right, and who
    could blame him? tried to fomulate a conciliatory
    reply but Tinuviel was before him.
    "He is Beren son of Barahir, lord of Men, mighty
    foe of Morgoth, the tale of whose deeds is become a
    song even among the Elves!" she declaimed proudly, her
    clear voice ringing through the domed hall awakening
    silvery echoes.
    "Don't over do it, sweetheart." he muttered.
    "Let Beren speak!" the King snapped at his
    daughter, glared at the Man. "What would you here,
    unhappy mortal, and for what cause have you left your
    own land to enter this which is forbidden to such as
    you? Can you show reason why my power should not be
    laid upon you in heavy punishment for your insolence
    and folly?"
    Beren felt his own temper stir, no doubt he was in
    the wrong but Thingol's words were overharsh and
    unfitting towards one who had been accepted as a
    guest. "No reason," he said clearly, "save for your
    own royal word given to your daughter." Thingol
    blinked and the Man continued: "I humbly confess I
    have broken both your law and courteous custom, my
    Lord King, and you are justly indignant. But acquit me
    at least of intending offense.
    "My country was overrun by the creatures of the
    enemy and all my companions slain. Hard pressed I
    sought escape by the only route still open to me
    through the Nan Dungortheb."
    Thingol's eyes widened and the watching Elves
    murmured their shock. The King swallowed; "You lie,
    none can pass alive through the valley of dreadful
    death."
    "I understand well your doubt, Lord King, and so I
    forgive you the word lie." Beren said coldly. "If you
    cannot see I speak the truth, no doubt the Queen can."
    he looked directly at Melian, into light filled eyes
    like his Tinuviel's. "You and I know what power that
    brought me safe through the Dungortheb, and through
    your webs of shadow and confusion." he said to her
    quietly. "But I do not know for what purpose, do you
    Lady?"
    She shook her head once, stiffly. "No." And she
    lied.
    Beren frowned, then realized of course she would
    not wish to speak of such things in open hall. He
    would have to find an opportunity to talk to her
    later, alone.
    The King too was frowning, this time at his wife.
    Melian returned his look levelly. "He speaks the
    truth, my Lord, and your manners do Doriath no honor."
    Thingol looked uncomfortable, cleared his throat
    and conceeded grudgingly: "I was perhaps overharsh."
    "My Lord," Beren said earnestly, "my father would
    have used more words and harder to any stranger he
    found keeping company with his daughter without his
    knowledge or sanction. Please believe had I known I
    was in Doriath and Tinuviel was its princess I would
    have acted differently."
    ***
    Beren grinned at his mother. "Remember the look on
    Father's face when Bel and Em admitted to hiding wolf
    welps in haybarn? King Thingol had the exact same
    expression on his when Tinuviel dragged me up in front
    of him. It was all I could do to keep a straight face
    myself."
    "Father behaved abominably." Luthien snapped.
    "He behaved the way any father of a beautiful
    daughter would." Beren corrected. "I don't blame him a
    bit. In fact I rather like your father, sweetheart, he
    reminds me of my own."
    "I'm sure Barahir never tried to murder a guest!"
    Thingol's daughter returned.
    "Neither did yours." said Beren.
    ***
    Luthien was unhappy. Father had been atrociously
    rude to Anorion - Beren - and now everybody seemed to
    assume as a matter of course that he would soon be
    leaving Menegroth.
    "But I don't want him to go!" she half wailed to
    Mablung and Beleg as they escorted her back to her own
    chambers after leaving Beren in his.
    "You can't keep a Man as a pet, my Lady." Mablung
    chided.
    "Especially not that Man!" Beleg agreed
    emphatically. "He is a lord of his own people and King
    Finrod's sworn vassal."
    "*And* a hero famed throughout Beleriand for his
    deeds," Mablung continued. "I shudder to think what
    would be sung and told about us should we try to hold
    him against his will."
    "It would not be against his will! He wants to be
    with me, he told me so."
    "And no doubt he meant it, Princess," Beleg said
    kindly, "weary and heartsick as he was. But thanks to
    your care he is well now and ready to return to his
    own people."
    "Luthien," Mablung said very gently, "surely you
    see it is better for both of you that he go? you can
    have no future together." She stared at him, tears
    running down her face, and he continued
    compassionately but firmly. "He is Mortal, Luthien, he
    will fade and die in a few short years by our measure.
    It would be unfair to expect him to spend the little
    time he has as your playmate. Let him go back to his
    own kind, find comfort in the arms of a Mortal Woman
    and beget sons to continue his line."
    And what about me? she thought despairingly as the
    two Elves bowed low and went on their way, leaving her
    standing at the door to her apartments. Why didn't
    anybody understand? Beren not a pet or playmate he was
    her life! Without him she would fade and die as surely
    as any Mortal, she knew she would.
    Suddenly she turned and ran back up the passages to
    Beren's quarters, careless of the startled looks and
    whispers of those she passed. The outer chamber was
    empty and she burst without knock or other ceremony
    into the inner room.
    "When you said you would never leave me, you meant
    it didn't you? oh please say you meant it!" Beren
    straightened from the wash basin face and hands
    dripping to stare at her in astonishment. She
    continued, words tumbling over each other in a
    desperate spate: "We don't have to stay in Doriath,
    I'll go with you to Nargothrond, Finrod is my cousin
    as well as your lord he'd welcome me I know he would.
    I can give you sons to carry on your line as well as
    any Mortal girl. I'll go live among your people if
    that's what you want - I'll do anything, go anywhere,
    as long as we can be together!"
    The Man recovered himself, crossed the room in four
    long strides to clasp her in his arms. She clung to
    him sobbing. "Be still, my Tinuviel, be calm. I'm not
    going anywhere just yet. All's well, all's well."
    gradually the tears and trembling stopped. Gently he
    pushed her away. "Are you calm now, my darling? Can we
    talk sensibly?"
    She gulped, wiped her eyes on her sleeve and
    nodded. He led her back into the outer room, sat down
    beside her on a couch. "I am not the first of my
    family to fall in love with an Elf," he began, "my
    father's aunt loved the Lord Aegnor and he her but he
    felt the differences between them were too great for
    happiness and so he left her hoping she would forget
    him." smiled a little. "But we Men are not so fickle
    as your folk seem to believe. My aunt never wed and so
    their parting did naught but render both miserable."
    Luthien, paradoxically, brightened hopefully. "You
    mean -"
    "I mean I'm not going to make the same mistake." He
    said firmly. "If we're going to be miserable in the
    end we might as well have some joy first."
    Luthien sighed, relaxed against him. "That is how I
    feel."
    "Then you'll marry me?"
    "Oh yes!"
    ***
    "So all we had to do was tell King Thingol and
    Queen Melian that their one and only daughter was
    going to marry a short lived, landless Mortal and
    follow him to Nargothrond and wherever else he decided
    to wander." Beren smiled wryly. "I didn't expect them
    to take it calmly."
    "And I didn't expect them to be so completely
    indifferent to my wishes and my happiness." Luthien
    said bitterly.
    


	8. Luthien's Bride Price

"I didn't think Queen Melian would be feeling too  
friendly towards me after we broke our news so I  
decided I'd better have that private talk with her  
first." Beren continued wryly.  
***  
  
He eventually, by dint of much searching and much  
asking, ran the Queen to ground above ground. In a  
hemlock grove not far from the gates of Menegroth,  
sitting by a fountain at its heart. She looked up from  
the water at his approach and he bowed.  
  
"My Lady, today in hall I asked you a question -  
one unfitted to that time and place for which I  
apologize. Now I would ask again, in private. Have you  
seen why I was brought here?"  
  
"How could I?" he was stunned by the bitterness in  
her voice. "You know more of the One who brought you  
here than I. I can only guess at His will."  
  
Beren blinked in shock. "But..but you're a Maia -  
one of His Holy Ones. You've seen His face, dwelt with  
Him in High Heaven!"  
  
"Long, long ago." she said, still more bitterly.  
"In a memory that has faded. Now the Walls of the  
World are between us and our Father. We are bound to  
Arda and cannot to reach beyond it. The One is become  
a stranger to us - save for Manwe who can still ask  
for His guidance, but is not always answered."  
  
"Like the Elves." Beren said flatly. "Only worse  
because you know what you've lost." wonderingly. "Is  
the World really worth such a sacrifice?"  
  
"If you had seen the Vision shaped by the Music you  
would not ask that." and for a moment the wonder shone  
again in her face, then the light went out. "But that  
was before Morgoth, before the Marring."  
  
"Which brings us back to why He brought me through  
the Dungortheb to throw me at Tinuviel's feet. What  
does it mean? What does He want of us, her and me?"  
  
"That I do not know. All I know is you will take my  
daughter away from me, from her father, from her  
people." Tears brimmed over in her eyes and rolled  
down her face.  
  
Beren's heart ached with pity. He understood loss  
very well, too well. "Only for a time. A very short  
time by your measure. When I am gone she will need  
your love, your comfort more than ever."  
  
Melian shook her head. "No. We have lost her."  
***  
  
"She was right." Luthien said in a hard, cold  
voice. "I will never go back to Doriath. I will never  
see or speak to her or my father again. Not after what  
they did to us."  
  
"Tinuviel -"  
  
"Why do you keep making excuses for them, for  
*him*?" she demanded passionately. Bitterly to Emeldir  
and her new sister and brother by marriage. "My father  
raved like a madman when we told him about us. He said  
terrible things, unforgiveable things. Called Beren a  
thrall - a spy of the Enemy - things he knew weren't  
true!"  
  
"Along with things that were all too true," Beren  
said ruefully, "I *am* mortal and I *was* landless,  
and homeless, with nothing at all to offer any woman,  
much less the Princess of Doriath." to his mother.  
"Not that I wasn't angry myself at the time, but  
looking back I see Thingol's point. He was just being  
a father."  
  
"I will never forgive him." Luthien said, trembling  
with barely contained rage. "Never, never, never! Nor  
my mother either. She just sat there and listened,  
didn't try to help us at all!"  
****  
  
Thingol knew he was raving, could see the  
unbelieving horror in his daughter's eyes, the stern  
reproach in his wife's but he couldn't stop himself.  
How dared this - this - *mortal* this *mayfly* raise  
his eyes to Luthien Thingolien, Princess of Doriath!  
  
There he stood, the mere Man who'd somehow stolen  
the heart of Thingol's only child, cold and silent and  
formidable. There had to be some way to be rid of the  
creature. Surely once he was gone Luthien would come  
to her senses! Then suddenly Thingol knew how. Luthien  
was his Jewel, the great treasure of Doriath. Very  
well then he'd demand a Gem of equal value as her  
bride price. A Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth  
himself.  
  
And the Man laughed, of all possible reactions the  
most unthinkable - and terrifying. "You hold your  
daughter cheap, Thingol, to be willing to trade her  
for a cold, dead gem, a mere thing of craft. But if a  
Silmaril is your price than a Silmaril I will get for  
you. Await my return," the Man's pale eyes blazed into  
Thingol's with a contained anger somehow more terrible  
than any open wrath could ever be. "and never doubt  
that I *shall* return, O King."  
  
Then he turned his cold gaze on Melian, and it  
softened with something very like pity. The Queen met  
it for a long moment, then bowed her head.  
  
Finally Beren turned to Luthien, bent to kiss her  
hand. "Don't worry, Sweetheart, it'll be all right."  
and walked out of Melian's morning room without so  
much as a final glance at Thingol.  
  
Luthien gave him a look almost of hatred, then ran  
after the Man. He turned to Melian to find his wife's  
eyes swimming with tears.  
  
"Oh Elu, what have you done!"  
****  
  
"The bastard." Emeldir said flatly.  
  
"Yes." Luthien agreed, grimly.  
  
"No." Beren said firmly. "You're both being  
unfair." to his mother. "King Thingol knows nothing  
about Men, I'm the only one he's ever met, and so had  
no way of knowing what mad, stubborn creatures we are.  
He thought I'd give up and go away. He never dreamed  
I'd accept his condition."   
  
Emeldir smiled unwillingly. "No, I don't suppose he  
did." arched that left eyebrow again. "Not a very  
sensible thing for you to do, my son."  
  
"Don't I know it!" Beren agreed with fervor. "But I  
was just as angry as he was - and just as much to  
blame for what followed."  
  
Luthien snorted. "I was terrified, afraid I'd never  
see Beren again, that he'd get himself killed trying  
to meet my father's demands."  
***  
  
"Beren! Beren!" He stopped, waited for her to catch  
up with him. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Nargothrond." he said flatly, then seemed to come  
back to himself and smiled at her. "To King Finrod. We  
Beorings always take our troubles to him."  
  
Luthien let out a sigh of relief. "Oh yes, that's a  
good idea." her cousin was so wise, so reasonable he'd  
keep Beren from doing anything foolish *and* find some  
way out of this mess. "Finrod will know what to do."  
  
"That's what I think too." Beren agreed. Then his  
face went serious, hands tightening on her shoulders.  
"I *am* coming back, Tinuviel. Never doubt that."  
  
"I won't." she promised.  



End file.
